Dhara smiled as she breathed in the sweet smell of bananas mixed with various spirits. A dirty banana, that’s what the waitress had called it, and after tasting it, Dhara figured it was an appropriate name. The Dinghy Dock had been her local dig for dining since arriving on the island some 10 days prior. She had never before left the mainland except in her dreams. Within 72 hours of graduating medical school, She had boarded a flight from Boston to Fort Lauderdale to San Juan before jumping into a 6 person puddle jumper for the last leg to Puerto Rico. Dhara shuddered as she sat in the warm Carribean sun, she was terrified of flying and the quick memory of the turbulence throwing the plane around like a small toy made the hair on her arms stand up. She took another sip of her frozen drink and eyed the menu again, though she need not. It was a simple menu and she had memorized it the first day she had arrived.
There was nothing decidedly fancy about the menu or the food. The dinghy dock, while serving adequate food, was not known for it’s food. It was, however, well known for the spectacular view of the bay and the dizzying array of drinks than any entree on the menu. Visitors and Culebra natives were equally fond of the restaurant and tended to mingle together the closer it got to sunset.
For Dhara, medical school had not been that terribly difficult. She had watched countless numbers of students struggle with the curriculum, yet she had found it rather easy. She liked structure and discipline in her life and medical school had provided that for her. Dhara had few friends which she suspected had made her years in medical school go by quicker than others. No boyfriend to argue with, not enough friends to count on one hand, and no family save her older brother Drummond.
She rarely saw Drummond much, though she wished it could be more often. Dhara had nothing but fond memories of her brother, seven years older than her, but born on the same day and month as herself. Drummond had left for the university when she was only 11 years old. He had seemed to thrive there in the clutches of the academia at The University of Chicago, a very long distance from their birthplace in Boston.
Dhara picked up her drink and absent mildly twirled the straw in the drink. Under the hot Puerto Rico sun, the coolness of the drink felt nice as she held the glass in her hands. She liked hearing the ice cubes make small clinking sounds as they banged against the glass. Simple pleasures for simple people she thought to herself. She thought about taking a stroll later that night. A full moon tonight she had heard earlier as two tourists had walked past her, holding hands.
The shot rang out loud and clear. Odd she thought to herself. She hadn’t realized guns were even allowed on the small tourist island. Maybe someone was hunting in the hills of the small island? She had been told there was an abundance of white tailed deer on the island, imported from Europe centuries ago. She never heard the second shot as she crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from an open wound in her chest.